‘How can you like the girl who makes herself sick?’
‘Because that girl isn’t you. That’s your eating disorder, not you, and I like you.’
Slowly seeing the sun begin to glimpse in the never-ending horizon.
Slowly realising that its not just a distant memory of the girl before the eating disorder.
Slowly accepting that no matter what my past has been, my future is spotless.
Slowly re-considering my past decisions, not as failures and mistakes, but as choices I made when there were no other options available.
Slowly allowing someone else to chip away at that cage I’ve locked myself in.
Slowing refusing to let my eating disorder define who I am.
It is part of me. But it isn’t me. It’s not the sole factor that defines me or dictates my life, and it seems like I just needed the right person to make me realise that.